Home Furnishings
by 3lastigirl
Summary: Post DH. Harry goes on one final quest, to find the Portraits of his parents and their friends.
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter. If I did I wouldnt have killed so many characters in Deathly Hallows..._

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**Prologue**

The seemingly most mundane of objects are often those who hold the most mystifying qualities. They are also, usually, owned by both Muggles and Wizards, thus not attracting adverse attention to themselves- such as Two Way Mirrors that look and act like a normal mirror, yet allow two Wizards to communicate over long distances, like a mobile phone... without the phone bills...

It is through this logic that Fakirs of Arabia during the 1st Century AD, took the Muggle idea of painting portraits of the dead to be placed with the body on burial as an eternal record of the deceased's likeness, and devised the Wizarding Portrait.

Like the Muggle Fayum mummy portraits, the Wizarding Portraits depicted a deceased's likeness. However, through carefull spell casting, the Fakirs were able to divert the spirit of the Witch or Wizard from passing directally to the spirit world at death into a specific canvas -or set of canvases-, acting as a medium between the Land of the Living and the Spirit world.

Thus, the soul of the deceased free to travel between the Land of the Living and the Spirit world, though many choose to remain in their portrait which is usually hung in the family home or in an institution.

The spells to create the Wizarding Portrait, however, gave rise to the creation of the Horcrux by accident in the 5th Century when a portrait maker -who had avenged his brothers murderer- mispronounced the incantation _Spiritus __Averto _(from the Latin "Soul Divert") as _Spiritus A__verti_ (which roughly translates as "Soul Rout"), thus embedding the piece of his soul which had been torn into the canvas of the portrait he was making.

The creation of the Horcrux was not known until the Horcurx Portrait was destroyed in a fire some 150 years after its manufacture. The portrait maker, who was then in his 175th year, had always had a fondness for the portrait that he "couldn't quite explain", and when the occupant of the portraits' family had all died, he had taken the portrait home with him.

He had died but a week after the Horcrux being destroyed, after being through by a sword during a street show.

He had completed the feat many a time before after discovering years earlier that he could not die after being –what would normally be fatally- impaled with a spear.

The connection between the Horcrux and immortality was soon recognised by vain and Dark wizards alike, and thus the practice was prohibited by the governing bodies of the time.

This did not perturb those from attempting to create Horcruxes, though, and was only outlawed by the Dark wizards after a spate of horrific deaths due to soul fragility.

To date, the only wizard to create a successful Horcrux is Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, who split his soul 7 times (not including the piece remaining in his being).

Unlike the Horcrux, the _Spiritus Averto_ charm can be used on a soul numerous times without affecting its integrity. In fact, most wizards' souls are linked to a number of portraits, the first of which is created, usually, at birth.

Around the age when Muggle children are baptised –or other such religious rite is completed-, Wizarding children have their soul connected to a canvas in a linking ceremony known as Co_nserui_ (from the Latin "link").

The Conserui is also performed at weddings and various inductions.

This linking of one soul to many canvases allows the soul to travel between the various portraits which may be hung in various establishments in different parts of the country or, in some cases, in a different country entirely.

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R&R because it makes me feel special... and if there are any grammatical errors that I have missed, please say so. 

... writing Land of the Living and Spirit world made me think of His Dark Materials...


	2. The Aftermath

_Disclaimer- If I was JK, Remus would be alive and Harry would be dead. There, I said it._

_As such, I do not own- though I wish I did- Harry Potter or any of its characters_

**Chapter 1- The Aftermath **

Harry stared at the canopy of his four-poster bed. His body was heavy and sore from the exertions of the battle the previous night.

He could hear the languid snores of Ron to his left and the sounds of others sleeping in the remaining beds of the 7th year Gryffindor dorm.

A ray of afternoon sunlight had cut the gap between the curtains of his bed, falling on his lightning bolt scar. For the first time in 17 years, a pleasant warm feeling emanated from his forehead, reassuring Harry that he no longer had anything to fear.

The bodies of the fallen were to be moved today, a fact which only added to the weight on Harry's fatigued body.

Harry had been so tired after the battle that he had not even bothered to remove his clothes or shoes before falling onto his bed and into a deep dream filled sleep.

His t-shirt was ripped and sodden with blood and dirt, as were his jeans.

With immense effort, Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed, pulling the curtain back to find the dorm filled with the pink red hues of dusk.

He ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted his glasses. Just as he had thought, Ron was fast asleep on his bed, flat on his back and snoring like a chainsaw. Neville was sleeping soundly on his bed, his face dirty with mud and his hair still singed. Hermione slept on what was normally Seamus' bed, curled up in the foetal position.

Harry gazed out the dorm window. Everything was still. The castle was quiet.

The sun disappeared behind the distant mountains, leaving tangerine streaks on the wispy clouds of late May.

Harry's stomach gave a hungry lurch and rumbled loudly. He had fallen asleep before he could ask Keacher for those sandwiches…

He did not want to wake Ron, Hermione and Neville by summoning Kreacher. He stood and quietly walked out of the dorm, grabbing the clean robes that had been lain on the table in the middle of the room as he went.

The common room was empty. The hearth of the fireplace was empty, rendering the common room cold, as the heat of the afternoon sunlight lingered.

Harry sat in his favourite lumpy armchair by the hearth.

"Kreacher?" He said. His voice was hoarse but steady.

But a moment later there was a loud crack and Kreacher, Harry's house elf, stood at his feet.

Kreacher was bruised and had grazes on his face and ears. Slytherins locket hung around his neck proudly on a thin gold chain. His large eyes looked upon Harry with such reverence that Harry was sure Kreacher would cry, though Kreacher said nothing and bowed so low at Harry's feet that his snout like nose actually touched the scorched rug.

"Kreacher" Harry began, placing a hand lightly on the elfs shoulder "do you know of any arrangements that have been made about the… the…"

Harry could not muster the emotional strength to say 'dead' or 'fallen', not when Fred, Lupin and Tonks were among those who had fought and died so valiantly.

"I do, master" Kreacher said with a note of pride, thankful that he had information needed by his master.

"Professor McGonogall will send word to the families of those who were killed at 7 o'clock. They are preparing the bodies in the Great Hall now."

"Preparing the bodies?" Harry questioned

"Yes. Some of the curses can leave bodies… less than perfect. It was decided that the bodies would be cleaned up as best as possible before anyone was summoned. I believe Professor McGonogall said it would be 'adding insult to injury' if they didn't try and at least _clean_ the bodies" Kreacher said, his voice soft and sombre.

Harry sighed and once again ran his fingers through his hair. Such sacrifice.

"Has the body of Severus Snape been brought to the castle?" Harry said into his chest

"S…Snape?" Keacher quizzed

Harry had expected his body not to have been found. He sighed and stood, motioning for Kreacher to follow.

They walked slowly and labouriously to the Great Hall. The corridors were deserted. Nothing was moving, the castle was silent. Even the portraits remained empty.

The only sounds that emanated from the castle were Harry and Kreacher's footfalls, which seemed to echo into infinity in the deserted school.

Soft sobs and light footsteps became audible as Harry and Kreacher came to the top of the marble staircase, still stained with blood, the balustrade obliterated.

Harry poked his head feebly around the doors of the great hall. Professor McGonogall was meandering around the dead (who had now been put into orderly rows), casting charms and doing her best to conceal the worst of the wounds. Professor Flitwick and Slughorn were also helping, dropping what Harry could only assume to be Dittany on gaping wounds.

A blonde figure was hulking over a body at the front of the Hall, sobbing quietly.

Kreacher looked up at Harry who was staring at the bizarre scene in front of him. It was like an old photograph of a WW1 field hospital in one of Dudley's discarded books, endless rows of dead- all cut down in their prime.

"Mistress" Kreacher whispered, pointing to the figure.

"Mistress?" Harry repeated.

He slowly started into the Hall. Neither Flitwick, McGonogall or Slughorn noticed his entrance, they were too entrenched in their sombre work.

The blonde figure shifted and pushed it's long hair back before wiping its nose on its sleeve.

Harry approached quietly, Kreacher by his side. It was not until he was but 6 feet from the figure that he realised it was Narcissa Malfoy, and the body was that of her dead niece Nymphadora Tonks.

"Oh, mistress" Kreacher whispered from behind Harry.

Narcissa looked up. Her eyes were puffy and her normally porcelain skin was red and blotchy. Her hair was hanging limply around her face as she implored Harry for sympathy with a pathetic gaze.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be mourning your sister rather than Tonks? Get away from her, from Remus, from all of these people!" Harry spat.

Narcissa sobbed and dried her eyes on her already snot covered sleeve. She looked a wreck and her disposition gave Harry the belief that she had been drinking.

"S…sh… she lo…ooo…looks…s..sssoo mu…much…l…l…l…like…Andy" she half slurred half sobbed, looking at the expressionless Tonks.

"I'd… ne…never….never seen her before, on…only heard…"

"Poor mistress" Kreacher said again

"What…what will Andy think of me?"

"She wont think anything of you." Harry sneered "Why would she think on you for a moment? Her entire family is dead, everyone, Narcissa. Ted, Tonks, Remus. They were all good, Narcissa, they were on the right side- and you, you who were on the Dark side, your family is still intact. Your precious Draco is still alive, as it your husband. How is that fair? Why cry over a relative that you disowned? Why not flee back to your manor and pretend you were Imperiused all along?"

Narcissa looked at Harry as if he had just slapped her across the face.

"Get away from Tonks. Leave before Andromeda gets here. Seeing you and the knowledge that Bellatrix killed her daughter would destroy her. If you care so much of her opinion of you, you'll go and spare her some suffering."

Affronted, Narcissa gathered herself up and walked swiftly from the Hall.

"Poor mistress" Kreacher said from behind Harry again.

"Krea…" Harry had turned to ban Kreacher from ever referring to Narcissa as 'poor mistress' again, only to find him standing over Tonks.

Harry had not looked at Tonks since the night before. A fresh wave of guilt washed over him as he thought of Teddy and how he had not told Tonks to go home when he had first saw her in the Room of Requirement. He started backwards, away from her vacant stare, when he hit the bunk next to Tonks. Harry looked down onto Remus' silent face.

"I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry" he whispered to them both while clawing at his hair.

He fell to his knees and for the first time he allowed himself to feel and he wept long and mourningful tears of gratitude and sorrow for his fallen comrades. .

_La! Wasn't that _wonderful?_ If yes, please review. If no… review anyway _


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